


the moments in between

by GuardianofFun



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Minor Episode Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-03-04 13:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: A collection of little ficlets following T'Pol and Hoshi's relationship, the little moments in their lives.





	1. time and place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a warning - i am not very good at writing vulcan characters but i wont let that stop me bc i love these two with all my heart pls forgive me

Years of routine means that T’Pol wakes up, every morning, without fail at 0600 hours. Something clicks, makes her shift, and then her eyes are fluttering open. Usually, she’s out of bed the next minute, beginning her morning almost instantly. That is, when she sleeps alone. Hoshi, it seems has no such internal clock, and T’Pol has learnt that unless there’s an alarm or five set, Hoshi isn’t waking up until at least eight or nine. When T’Pol wakes up on a morning where Hoshi has stayed the night, she is often unable to roll over. Pinned to the bed by an arm flung across her waist and a head pressed against her neck. Her eyes flicker, and she finds herself looking at Hoshi’s head, watching her hair fall across her face as she wriggles closer to T’Pol. 

T’Pol wonders, for a moment, if she should extract herself from the bed. She has things to do after all. Make tea, shower, read the reports from Reed that are stacked up on her desk. Breakfast, clean up, prepare notes for the analysis that needs to be written up. There are a hundred and one things she could be doing, and only a few hours to do them in if she wishes to do them before the rest of the ship wakes up. Yet she finds herself unaffected by the idea. Reports, she can read over breakfast, and her room does not necessarily need to be cleaned this morning, it will only get cluttered again when she begins reading. All things considered, T’Pol doesn’t need to get up at all yet. She has no reason to leave the warmth of her sheets, and as her eyes trace the curve of Hoshi’s chin, she realises she has every reason to stay. 

She brings one hand up, the one that isn’t curled under Hoshi, and gently tucks the fallen hair back behind Hoshi’s ear. She let’s her hand linger for a moment, smiling as the sweet smell of Hoshi’s shampoo tingles at her nose. Strawberry. She had become quite partial to them recently. 


	2. time alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set at the end of Sleeping Dogs, the barest of spoilers for the episode, minor cameo from Malcolm!

It felt to Hoshi as though it was never truly quiet onboard the Enterprise. The chatter of the crew, in any number of languages, the hum of the warp core beneath them were near constant. Even if the crew was silent, the mess hall was still awash with the sounds of cutlery on plates, glasses on tables. The bridge, a never ending series of beeps and blips, the armoury of phaser fire or drill practice. Sickbay was never silent, and even the corridors could never truly settle down, endlessly echoing any footstep. 

There was nowhere she could go to truly escape the noise of the ship. While she adored her work it was all noise and chatter and straining to hear anything in the somewhat terrifying, endless reach of space. She liked to be somewhere quiet when she could, but for the longest time it had proved hard to find peace and quiet on the ship. That was until an incident aboard a Klingon ship landed her in decon, where it was warm, clean, and most importantly, quiet. That is until Phlox interrupts to tell them they really must leave now. Reed gives her a smile, then sighs quietly as he stands and pads towards the door. T’Pol, sitting beside Hoshi opens her eyes to glance at her. 

Hoshi barely hears Reed excuse himself because T’Pol’s eyes on her makes her heart flutter so much that Phlox seems almost worried. 

“Perhaps we could make use of decon while longer, doctor,” the Vulcan woman says smoothly. “I would like to show Ensign Sato some meditative techniques and these are ideal conditions.” Of course, Phlox can’t argue with that flawless logic, and permits them use of the silent chamber. 

When T’Pol takes her hand, something shoots through Hoshi’s, sparks running up her fingers right to her head, making it spin. The room is suddenly a lot smaller. T’Pol’s quiet voice breaks the spell. 

“Hoshi, are you alright?” Her first name is almost her undoing. She struggles to shake her head. She can’t begin to think of clearing her mind when the only thing she can think of is closing the gap between them. T’Pol thinks for a moment, glances at their joined hands on the bench and must make the correct leaps in logic, because she turns her face back to Hoshi and kisses her.

The human hopes to every deity she knows that Phlox is off bugging Reed right now, because her heart may very well explode out of her chest right now and she doesn't want anything about it to change.


	3. running late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild mocking of charles tucker iii, the Loser...

Despite living with humans for so long, there are some practices and rituals that are beyond her comprehension. Their insistence on celebrating birthdays for one thing, the obsession they all seem to have for not listening when you tell them not to antagonise the aggressive alien species or the invention of the harmonica. They are, for all her study of human nature, the odd few that escape her understanding. In particular though, she ponders as she watches Hoshi get ready from the comfort of their shared bed, why some do not seem to see their own brilliance. 

Hoshi is bent over her desk to stare into the mirror, tugging the dress she is wearing so that the waistline sits a little lower. She frowns as she turns back to T’Pol, who is sat on the edge of the bed in one of her more subdued set of robes, and has been ready for thirty minutes already. 

“I don’t know, it makes me look… weird,” she says, gesturing to her legs, then her face, then her torso. T’Pol’s eyebrow finds itself raised. The flowing purple fabric wraps itself around her girlfriend, cinched in at the waist to accentuate the curve of her hips. It matches the dark plum of her lipstick, and reminds T’Pol of the flowers Hoshi had brought her on their first date. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, as Hoshi crosses to the wardrobe and stares blankly at the limited number of formal outfits she has with her. Hoshi shrugs and slams the doors shut again. 

“I just… I don’t look good in any of these. I look awful!” she flushes pink, and T’Pol has to take a moment to compose her thoughts. 

“That is untrue,” she says, standing to go through her own wardrobe. “You are incredibly beautiful, Hoshi; regardless of which dress you wear. Though I must profess there are reasons that this dress suits you more than others.” She catches Hoshi’s eye in the mirror behind her, and there’s a confused apprehension on her face. 

“I believe it compliments your eyes,” she says and Hoshi looks away, as T’Pol pulls something from her drawer. A sheer shawl she had taken from her family home, in a shade not too dissimilar to Hoshi’s dress. She motions for Hoshi to stand and then wraps it around her shoulders. “But with some slight changes,” she pins it in place with a small brooch.

“It is-” Hoshi cuts her off. 

“Perfect…” T’Pol nods.    


“I would agree.” Hoshi turns a wonderful shade of pink again as she leans forward and kisses her quickly. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. Then, louder. “Now I’ve got my girlfriend's scarf on, don’t we have a party to get to?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to think the part is Shran and Archer's engagement party and the shawl looks like smth T'Pol wore at her wedding in Home


	4. down time

Hoshi’s right hand traces lazy patterns in the sand, swooping circles and long lines, while her left holds up the book her nose is currently buried in. A collection of Andorian fairy tales, they’ve almost completely taken her from the gorgeous beach she’s lying on and taken her to a far off cave full of ice demons. Though the sun beats down on her back, the book has sent a chill down her spine. 

She’s so invested, she doesn’t hear T’Pol as she shifts closer, or feel as her shadow falls across the patch of sand beside her. 

The Vulcan woman, who had been sat meditating while looking out across the stillness of the lake they sat at, has now turned and is simply watching as Hoshi’s hand works its way through warm sand. Silently, she watches, thankful for the time alone they have together, a brief week respite before Enterprise leaves orbit again. They had visited Vulcan on their last return home, and while T’Pol would have enjoyed a return to her own planet, when she had seen that way Hoshi’s eyes lit up as she described the lake house she used to visit, T’Pol felt compelled to agree. 

Hoshi’s hand coming up to turn the page of her book brought T’Pol out of her musings and her eyes caught on the shape that had been left in the sand. Her eyebrows rose up, and she leant over to catch Hoshi’s eye. 

“That’s not very polite,” she said, watching as confusion flashed across Hoshi’s face. Letting her lips pull up ever so slightly, she picked up Hoshi’s hand, and without touching the sand, traced the shape above it. Of course, being the brilliant linguist she was, Hoshi saw the pattern instantly, throwing her head back and laughing as T’Pol finished tracing the last swirl. It look an awful lot like Vulcan script, and sounded an awful lot like an English curse. 

“T’Pol! You’ve been spending too much time with Commander Tucker, that’s- you’re terrible!” She giggled again, tracing her finger over the sand again. “Suppose you’re not entirely wrong though…” Then she smirked and ran her hand across the sand, wiping away the accidental obscenity. Then with careful precision, she began to write something else, slightly longer this time. It ran beside her towel and by the time she finished, her hand rested on T’Pol’s knee. 

“Is that better?” she asked, her voice low and soft. T’Pol rested her hand atop Hoshi’s. 

“I love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for my terrible butchery of Vulcan, I kinda know a little about it but u can get glyphs that represent FO and OK idk i was looking for a way to make it so this could happen and both sounds are pretty simple so like... yeah... this is... totally plausible... shhh let my linguist and her clever gf make stupid jokes


	5. early hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i gotta stop writing breakfast in bed scenes but i won't bc they're the cutest

T’Pol wakes to the sound of her quarters doors opening. She rolls over to glance at the alarm beside her bed, and figures it must be Hoshi, because who else would enter her rooms at seven thirty in the morning without knocking. Sure enough, as she sits up in her bed, it’s her partner’s face that appears before her. There’s a tray in her hand, and one of those looks on her faces that usually means she wants to show T’Pol another human ritual.

“Good morning Hoshi,” she says warmly, glancing at the tray pointedly. “What is this?” Hoshi smiles moving forward to perch on the end of the bed. 

“Don’t get up! It’s very important you stay in bed for this,” she says, and T’Pol’s eyebrows pull up. Hoshi giggles suddenly.

“Oh no, not that! I mean-” she glances at the clock. “If we have time before your shift starts - but this is something else,” she says with a wicked smile. T’Pol tries to pull her gaze away from Hoshi’s lips, sure to hold her to that promise sooner or later. Instead she glances back to the tray, which she realises is full of food. 

“This is the great human tradition of breakfast in bed,” Hoshi says, holding the tray out towards her. There’s a steaming cup of her favourite tea, a fruit salad of both the earth and Vulcan varieties, toast and pastries, enough to feed half the alpha crew. 

“This seems highly impractical, shouldn’t we move to the table?” She says, moving to swing her legs from the bed. Hoshi lowers the tray, stopping her escape. “Nope, that’s half the fun!” She picks up a fork and stabs a piece of fruit to hold it out to T’Pol. 

“I promise to clean the sheets if you get breadcrumbs in them.” T’Pol leans forward to accept the fruit as she considers. Reasoning that they may just get double the use out of the bed that morning, it seems acceptable. Besides, it is warm between the sheets. Seeing as Hoshi brought her breakfast all the way here, it would be inconsiderate to refuse such a small request. Nodding, she spears her own piece of fruit and holds it out for Hoshi.

“Then, Miss Sato, you have a deal.”


	6. time heals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love these two so much
> 
> minor blood mentions cw

Hoshi has a splitting headache. She can’t quite remember but it was probably something to do with the piece of her console that caught her in the face when it exploded on the bridge earlier. It doesn’t help that sickbay is full of noise right now either, Phlox’s medical team bustling about tending to the wounded. The worst of the danger is over now, the aggressors gone and  _ Enterprise  _ only slightly worse for wear. Her crew took a bit more of a beating, and now all Hoshi wants to do is curl up in bed, find a blanket and just cry a bit. Days like this always reminded her of home, and it made that tiny flicker of doubt burn a little stronger and she ended up wondering if she really belonged out here at all. It was silly, she knew, and she had long since come to love life aboard the ship, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to get homesick for the relative safety of earth every now and then. 

Just as she contemplated sneaking out of sickbay, Phlox finds his way to her spot on the end of the biobed, hypospray in one gloved  hand and antiseptic wipe in the other.

“May I?” he asks and she nods.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he presses the pain relief against her neck. The speed at which the stuff moves never ceases to amaze Hoshi, and she sighs happily.

“Better now, although I still feel a little nauseous. I think I inhaled some smoke before I got off the bridge,” she grimaces. “I can still taste it!”

Phlox hums, wiping away the trickle of blood from her hairline with the wipe and then turns to dispose of the cloth. When he turns back, there’s a scanner in his hands and is about to wave it over her chest when the doors to sickbay open and Hoshi’s head flicks over to see who has come in. T’Pol catches her eye, and it’s like the painkiller all over again; relief washes over Hoshi. T’Pol is okay, and as long as T’Pol is okay, they will be okay. Together they can get through anything. T’Pol makes her way through the over-crowded room, slipping into the space beside her bed.

“Are you alright, Ensign?” she asks, watching as Phlox finishes applying gauze to the scrape on her head before Hoshi ducks her head in response. “A little banged up but okay.” She leans forward, one hand reaching out to give T’Pol’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Better now that you’re here.” The two share a small smile each, and then Phlox coughs and they both turn back to him.    


“You’ll survive Miss Sato, but I would recommend finding somewhere quiet to lie down for a while. Just let me know if you start feeling dizzy or nauseous.” There’s a smile on his face that only grows when T’Pol immediately responds. 

“You can stay in my quarters, Ensign. I can monitor you, while you get some rest.” Hoshi wishes she could jump from the bed, but settles for sliding down and linking her arm through T’Pol’s. 

“That sounds perfect, Sub-Commander.”

As T’Pol guides her back down the corridor, towards the turbolift, she turns to glance at Hoshi. Her eyes are soft as she lifts a hand to carefully push back a fallen strand of hair from Hoshi’s face. A small gesture, but it says so much.

_ I’m glad you’re okay _

_ I’m sorry you were hurt _

_ I love you, so much _


End file.
